#but a full length multi chapter fic??

[aphantimes]

am i really shit at looking or are knuckles centric fics p uncommon

[disillusioneddanny]

Crackling Flames and Humming Electricity

Prompt courtesy of @stealingyourbones Jason gets his neck sliced by Bruce’s batarang. It irreversibly damaged his vocal cords.

Pros: He can still use ghost speak

Cons: None of his family knows ghost speak (as it’s sounds aren’t for living men to understand)

It had been an accident when it happened. That’s what Bruce had said anyway. He had been so focused on saving Joker from being killed by Red Hood that he hadn’t even realized what he had done to his son . That he had permanently disabled Jason in a way that could never be repaired.

The slice to his throat had destroyed his vocal chords. He hadn’t been able to say a single word in over a year now. After a year of vocal therapy, Jason had learned how to do these strange chirps and growls, these weird noises that didn’t seem to come from his throat at all but moreso his very being let out the noises. The only problem was that no one understood what he was saying.

Cass had been a blessing and had taken the time to teach Jason how to successfully sign. She had taken it on as her mission as the only other person in the family who was mute to make sure that Jason could effectively communicate.

He hadn’t been back at the manor since the accident, hadn’t been around Bruce since it happened. But each of his siblings had come to check on him, they checked in on him every so often and they had even managed to develop their own way of understanding the strange rumblings that came from Jason’s body that were now his only form of vocal communication.

A chirp meant that he was happy.

Two chirps was a yes.

A short growl was no.

A long snarling growl? He was pissed and you better leave him the fuck alone.

It wasn’t the best, but it worked when they spoke with him on comms. They couldn’t understand any of the other noises that came from Jason, the wails, the crackling of fire that somehow espaped him sometimes. A sound that could only be described as the sound of smoke itself slipping through the air. They were sounds that didn’t have names, there were no true words to describe the noises that would come from Jason at times.

His family tried. Oh his siblings desperately tried to understand this new way of communication with their brother but none of it was effective. No one truly understood him anymore. Not even Cass could always understand what Jason was trying to explain in his broken sounds and strange chirps.

That had all changed one fateful day, though.

Jason had gone to pick up a coffee from the only functioning shop in Crime Alley. It had just opened a few weeks before and he had been meaning to try it out. Wanted to see the brave bastard willing to open up such a pretty coffee and tea shop in the middle of Crime Alley of places. Something had been tugging at Jason’s gut about the place, almost as though it was calling Jason here, like he needed to be at the coffe shop.

Seriously, though, as he inspected the layout, it looked like the kinda place to be opened in one of the fancier neighborhoods in Gotham, not Red Hood’s home.

Red Hood had managed to keep his operations running even after the accident. If anything, it had made his people even more loyal to him. Those closest even taking the time to learn sign language just so that they could communicate and translate. They had all seen the way he had tried to take down Joker, only for the fucking Batman attempt to murder him just to save the very man who tormented the people of Gotham. Of course, the people of Crime Alley were more commonly his victims, less likely to be noticed if they were murdered, less likely to be taken seriously.

So it had come as a personal offense to all of them when Red Hood had been nearly killed. They had all respected Red Hood even more after it had happened, realizing that not only had he gone against the bat, but he had done it and lived out of pure spite.

Jason slipped through the door of the shop, Phantom’s Oasis it was called and looked around. Dark black metal chairs and tables lined the walls, Boston ivy grew along the charcoal grey walls. Any parts that were not covered by ivy were covered by bookshelves overfilled with books. And while tables and chairs lined the walls, comfy, overstuffed chairs filled the corners with small coffee tables, the middle of the area sat large velvet green couches. It was like it was the perfect oasis for Jason.

He made it up to the back counter where a single employee stood cleaning the counter. He was young, probably just a year or two younger that Jason. He was tall and lanky with deep black hair pulled back in a pony tail, showing off the shaved sides of his head. Cosmic themed earrings hung from his lobes and cartilage and when the man glanced up, Jason was also surprised to find a ring on either nostril in the man’s nose along with a septum piercing. For all that his looks screamed edgy, though, he exuded nothing but safety and warmth. Something in Jason’s very being ached to be close to the man.

Unable to stop himself he released a soft sound, the sound of walls breaking under strong flames. The man’s head shot up and he smiled at Jason before releasing a sound of his own.

It was the sound of the stirrings of a storm. Hello, it said. How are you?

“You know what I’m saying?” Jason asked, only the words came out in the sound of a roaring flame, those of a bonfire finally growing higher and higher. He signed the words as well causing the barista to grin in response.

“Of course I do, we’re the same,” he explained through sounds of a building creaking against harsh winds.

A childlike peel rang from Jason’s mouth unable to stop himself. It was the laughter of a child who thought Robin was magic. The laughter of someone who had finally found someone who understood him.

“How?” Jason asked, tilting his head to the side, his heart racing.

The barista smiled and a single black painted finger nail beckoned him closer.

In English the man whispered in Jason’s ear once he approached. “Because just like you, I died wrong and came back wrong,” he murmured before he pulled away and took in Jason’s form. “It’s why you were drawn here.”

Smoke crackled in the air showing Jason’s curiosity, his confusion.

The barista smiled. “You don’t know what you are, do you?” after a shake of Jason’s head the man smiled. “Jason Todd, you are an extraordinary being that is both of life and death. A being that has lost more than he ever gained but continued on stubbornly, refusing to back down. You were called to Phantom’s Oasis because your core heard my ghost speak and like calls to like.”

Ghost speak? Is that what the sounds that escaped Jason were? A language of those who had died and come back wrong? Or didn’t come back at all judging by the name. The sound of fire crackling filled the empty coffee shop.

“I’m Danny, by the way. Now, what would you like to drink? I can make it real quick, close up shop and we can talk.”

The crackling of a sparkler escaped Jason’s being causing Danny’s noseto wrinkle in amusement. “You’ve got yoursel a fire core, huh?”

Pops and crackles slipped from Jason, showing his curiosity.

“Order first, then I’ll answer your questions,” Danny said in the form of the sounds of electricity crackling through the air.

Jason frowned and started to sign his order only for Danny to push his hands down. “Use your words,” he said quietly. “I’ll understand.” The sounds that came from Danny were reminiscent of an old generator turning on for the first time in years, the electricity hummed the words out for Jason to understand.

Rustling and crinkling of a fire’s flames going out sounded throughout the room. “Vanilla late with sweet cream,” it said to Danny.

The hum of white noise came through in response, telling him that Danny understood as he got to work. He waved a hand causing Jason to look back as the door to the shop locked itself.

“I’m a halfa,” Danny told him through the sizzling of lightning that had just hit the earth. “You are what feels like a revenant. Someone who died a brutal death and came back to seek revenge. You have someone we ectoplasmic entities call a core.”

Jason listened as Danny spoke in sounds of crackling electricity and quiet hums of white noise as he explained ghost cores to Jason. Ghost cores were their very being, they were created in result of the person’s death. In their examples, Danny had died by electocution, it was why his ghost speak sounded like electricity coursing in the air and lighting crackling angrily and wildly. He didn’t need Jason to confirm before he had said that the revenant had died in a fire of some sort. He explained that all ghosts had the basic chirps and growls for ghost speak but that the rest was specific to their cores as they were all different.

It wasn’t Jason making the noises that came out of him but his very core himself. For the first time in a year, though, Jason was finally able to speak to someone without sign, to use his words to explain what happened to him, the pain he had gone through when realizing that his father would rather kill him than let him get revenge. He had finally found someone who understood the ache of not being able to exact revenge on the person who had killed him.

For the first time in Jason’s life, he had finally found someone who understood. Danny had sat there drinking his own London Fog as he listened to Jason’s tell. Responding in chirps, whistles and a gentle hum of running appliances. He gave insight and advice, had even given Jason his number explaining that yes, they could use ghost speak over the phone as well.

He had never felt so seen in all of his life.

Maybe that explained why he kept coming back to the coffee shop. Every day he would come, order his coffee, using a language that just he and Danny knew and curled up on a couch and read for hours, feeling at peace in a way he hadn’t experienced since he had died.

Maybe it explained why he went out on a limb and asked Danny on a date, demanding that the halfa come over to his place for dinner.

Of course, Danny had only agreed if Jason promised to make the halfa’s favorite. The night had quickly ended with their cores singing for one another as their legs tangled together under the safety of Jason’s blankets.

Rustling and crackling of a candle flame sounded through the room as electricity hummed along with it, creating a symphony of white noise that Jason loved more than anything in the world. The noises provided a sense of comfort and safety unlike anything he had ever experienced. He wanted to drown in the sounds, drown in the sounds of Danny’s crackling electricity that whispered promises of happiness and safety. Just as the whispering flames of Jason’s core told Danny stories of love and promises of companionship, holding him close, wrapping around him in a warm comforting blanket.

The air crackled around Jason as he stood in the kitchen quietly making breakfast, revelling in the feeling of Danny surrounding him from all sides.

His fire chirped at the halfa in curiosity. One or two it asked him.

Two, electricity said with a charged hum, thin arms snaked around Jason’s waist.

“I think you’re going to have to invite me over more often,” lightning crackled, a crash exploding from Danny in a way that made Jason shiver in delight.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let you leave,” fire roared, flames licking high in the air, causing wood to shatter and break under the heat. Danny just chuckled and kissed the side of his neck softly.

Electricity flowed from Danny along with a series of chirps, whistles and growls, telling Jason he had no problem with staying by Jason’s side.

[thetorturedpoetsfest]

We're super excited to announce The Tortured Poets Fest, a Harry Potter themed fest centered around Taylor Swift's newest album! ✨

Calling all writers, artists, and video editors! Below are important dates, rules, and information you'll need to know if you'd like to join in with us. This fest is focused on The Tortured Poets Department — Taylor Swift's newest full-length album released on April 19, 2024.

This fest is open to ALL Harry Potter generations including Marauders, Golden Era, and Next Gen. All pairings are welcome!

We've also created a little community of participants on Discord to help with round tabling and creativity. We'd love if you joined us! This is an 18+ only fest.

⚡️ Timeline

Sign-Ups Open: April 22, 2024

Sign-Ups Close: May 20, 2024

Submissions Due: June 24, 2024

Posting Begins: July 1, 2024

🌙 Sign-Ups & Claiming

You must complete the Google Form for your sign-up as well as claim your choice of prompt on the AO3 collection.

You may only claim one prompt at a time. If you finish your prompt, you may claim an additional prompt, but you must submit your first prompt as per submission guidelines.

One song prompt can be claimed by multiple people (it's not first come, first serve). You can use a song in any way you like for inspiration — title, lyrics, vibes… You do not need to title your work after the song or use lyrics in any way if you don’t want to.

Collaborations are welcome! Collabs can be illustrated fics, multi-writer fics, multi-artist artworks, etc.

✨ Creating

All ships from all generations are welcome (Marauders, Golden Era, and Next Gen). This is not a ship-specific or generation-specific fest.

There is a minimum word count of 1,000 words for all submitted fics. For podfics, the recorded story should be a minimum of 1,000 words. There is no maximum for either fics or podfics.

Multi-chapter fics are allowed, but you must finish the first chapter of the fic by the submission deadline.

All works must be tagged appropriately! In light of the mental health topics alive and real in this album, please consider yourself, your fellow participants, and your readers when discussing any themes on mental health in your works.

🏛️ Posting

Posting will begin on July 1, 2024, and the schedule will not be publicly released.

If you have any questions, please feel free to drop us an ask!

—

From your Tortured Poets Mods — @imdamagecontrol @wolfpadx @lemonlans @heartsoncover @multiimoments and it's many helpful and incredible organizers who managed to put this whole fest together in a few days' time 🖤

[marigoldenblooms]

Unica Semper Avis - Chapter 1

Pairing: Cleric!Wanda x Fem!AvianShifter!Reader x MonsterHunter!Natasha

Prompt: Ever since you’ve come of age, you’ve never been able to stop yourself from transforming into a monster. Whenever the sky would dim with a New Moon, you’d ravage the world with a fury unknown by many. Such is the bane existence of your species. This time, however - something was different. Now, you need help. On the feeble doorstep of the so-called ‘Spirit Healer,’ you found yourself both at the mercy of a cleric, and of a monster hunter’s blade. Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

MINORS DNI - 18+

TW/General Tags: No mention of Y/N, slow burn, stranger to lovers (Wanda), enemies to lovers (Natasha), eventual smut (lord have mercy), Swearing, Fantasy violence, occasional descriptions of light body horror during transformation, slight self harm, slight restraint, angst, fluff, will add tags as they appear!

Chapter Warnings: Angst, canon-level violence, use of medieval weapons, body horror description in transformation, magic use, slight dissociation/self harm, restraint, fluff (for five seconds), R is a simp, so is W, N is not here to play, etc.

A/N: I’ve been working on this next chapter ever since the previous. Chapter two is coming along quickly as well! I want to keep a bit of a backlog for my longer fics, so updates will be as frequent as I can manage. The name established in this chapter for R will be used sparingly, but I loved what Missmonsters2 did with Between the Lines when I read it months ago, and thought it’d be pertinent until nicknames/pet names are established (and for as long as I can avoid conversation where names are necessary). 

R’s monster form brought to you by bearded vulture inspiration! Feel free to imagine your own version of avian horror to your heart’s content. Enjoy, y’all!

Word Count: 3.1k - Read Length: 11 minutes, 18 seconds. Pictures aren't mine, credit to their owners!

~~~  The healer’s home was nothing short of overwhelming. 

Multi-colored knick-knacks were strewn on every surface, perched below gatherings of drying, braided flowers which hung from the rafters. Beneath your feet, woven rugs of alternating sizes dotted the cabin’s cool wooden floors, like islands between a chilled sea of timber. The front door lead further into a sitting room, offering glimpses into a small, quaint looking kitchen, adorned with a single well-worn table and chair. Within that same place, a large pot was held still on the counter by wisps of scarlet magic, another more opaque plume coaxing a wooden spoon to stir whatever was inside. 

Paintings hung along every wall, although you could never get a full glance at one, as though they’d subtly shift and change muses whenever you’d look away. The sound of a shutting door would heighten your senses enough to break from the scenery, turning on your heels to face the home’s owner once again. She’d pry at you with a half-smile, and you’d solidify your gaze at the floor before her eyes could have the chance to meet yours. 

“What brings you to my home?” She’d question evenly, her words a pleasing rasp- smooth molasses which could easily cloud your senses if you allowed her to. You’d see her form move to the side of you in your peripheral, yet you’d remain still, your stare continuing to bore a hole into her carpet. 

Wordlessly, you’d tug at your shawled sleeve to show the back of your arm. Running along the skin’s expanse were thin ridges, pin feathers prickling beneath taut flesh. A light down speckled your skin in odd patches, consolidated mostly on your neck and shoulders for now. Your hair had begun to fleck and grow waxy and silkish, akin to dense ostrich feathers, tousled from your trek to her abode. You’d watch the ground as her shadow would shift around you, a curious tsk showcasing her intrigue.

You wouldn’t see her raised expression, eyebrows furrowed as she’d take your wrist without warning, raising it up so she could see the indentation better in the light. She’d drop your arm as soon as she’d grabbed it, falling limply to your side, and her smooth voice would threaten to carry you off again. “Fascinating..your affliction isn’t something I’ve seen recently.”

“Can you help?” You’d mumble, the few phrases coming to you sounding choked from lack of use, and you could hear the healer’s grunt at your lackluster response. You’d swallow thickly, trying to find the words to explain all that you were, but none arrived. She’d circle around you once more, and before you could flinch away, would capture your chin between her thumb and forefinger, wrenching it to make you look at her- green irises narrowing as you’d shut yours, unwilling to look her in the eye. You’d half expect her grip to be cold like the Matron’s, but her touch’s pleasant warmth was something you almost missed as she’d let go of you, the shuffle of her arms crossing heightened behind your closed eyelids. 

“I can’t help a patient I can’t trust,” She’d muse with a teasing lilt, rolling her r’s in a way that made your chest flutter. Was this another symptom of your molt? It had been a long time since you’d been with another and the thought made your heart ache, albeit not more than your bones. “Why won’t you look at me?”

The scoff that came in response to her was almost too easy, opening your eyes after directing your head to the floor again, “Because I am no threat to you.” “And why would I assume that?” She’d retort immediately, and you’d glare into the ground. Why was talking so easy for her? Why couldn’t she understand that you weren’t like her? You’d raise your arm aloft again, the skin burning now as you’d twist the plumage under your flesh for her view. The rage that had been festering in you for days unlocked a torrent of your words, finally finding purchase in your mouth- frustration evident in how each phrase was ripped from your throat. Your larynx would be useless beyond a breathing tool soon, so you better use it now. Your nails clawed at your arms, doubling into yourself, “Because you are human and I am not, healer- is that not something you’re able to understand-?!” 

“Relax for me-” she’d grit, and you’d feel your stomach plummet at her words. Something in them begged obedience, and for a second you felt as though you were back in your nightmare. You’d twitch, glance immediately circling the ceiling as something would restrain you- thin tendrils of crimson magic, keeping your arms from flaring out at your sides. As if seeing your frustration, your panic, the healer’s sorcery would calm, soothing both your body and your mind into an unnatural lull. “You’re…using-” you’d begin, yet words would evade you once again, no longer fueled by anger. There was only a different feeling- regret, and uncomfortable stone in your stomach that you shied away from, wanting to cower from its weight. You didn’t like yelling at this woman, even as she cradled you with her witchcraft. 

You’d feel her heat again, warm hands placing tentative touches to your shoulders, slowly coaxing your glance to hers. “I’m sorry,” she’d breathe, shallow as you’d feel her palms shake against you, “I didn’t want you… to hurt yourself-” Her irises, blooming with clouds of red, would drain into green as you’d feel her magic loosen around your body like unraveling ropes. You wouldn’t shy away from her this time, panting as her gaze would share her soul with you. She, too, held that stone in her gut. Perhaps she didn’t fear you. 

You’d part as her back would stiffen, adding a few feet between the two of you. “What is your name?” She’d ask, and you saw the way her head tilted since you looked at her face. Your words came easier now that you were less tense, muscles losing their rigidity, and yet you didn’t have an answer for her.  You still pried into her windows, eyes flicking across the expanse of her garden from the view you could get from her living room, but it was a start. “I met your gaze, healer..I’ve done my part, you first.”

You’d see the way her nose crinkled at your response, flecks of mirth illuminating her expression, a grin finding its place there, “Talking now, are we? I’m Wanda.” “I’m..Margo.” In truth, you hadn’t had a name in years, the few decades you’d been alive focused more on survival than memory, especially when your molts made it difficult to discern who you really were- humanoid or avian. You’d forgotten your birth name ages ago, and it was a blessing that your words left your mouth as cleanly as they did. She’d tut at your response, taking it in as satisfactory, “Sure…Margo. Would you like to sit down?” 

Wanda would guide you to her kitchen table without much fanfare, settling you on her single chair. With a focused look and a wave of her hand, however- a duplicate would reveal itself from a cloud of scarlet mist. “Your magic is red?” You’d inquire, tilting your head as you’d seen her do, “It’s a violent color. Why is that?”

“Do you really want to toe that line?” Her phrase were humorous, yet you swear a flash of indignation peppered her visage. You were not going to mess with that line, whatever she meant by that. “No, Wanda.” She smiled at that, her name seemingly pleasing in your mouth. You felt the flutter in your chest again, heart drumming a little faster against your shifting ribcage. If this was a sign of your incoming succession, then you had to finish this fast- to return before you transformed in Wanda’s house. And yet, why was the feeling almost pleasant? 

“You said you haven’t seen my ‘affliction’ in a while,” You’d recount, finding her term for your molt unremarkable. You’d offer her a glimpse of your arm again, hesitating to touch the quills beneath. It was always tender before a lunation, and you didn’t want to aggravate the transformation further, “It doesn’t normally happen so soon. In hours before the new moon, maybe- not over days.” 

“And what happens after those hours?” She’d coax your arm down with a gentle wave, seeing how your movements grew stiff as your skeleton hollowed out. You shrug, “I transform.” Wanda’s expression would sour, yet curiosity prickled underneath. Why did she look at you like that? “Can you help me? You said you're familiar with my kind.” 

“..In truth, I’ve never met someone like you,” She’d murmur, expression bashful, and if the circumstances were different you would’ve taken it as a compliment. Instead, spiked embers of dread seared in your stomach, heart beginning to thrum in your ears. She didn’t know. Could she even help you? Her voice would raise a little louder, “However, if you tell me about yourself, perhaps I could figure it out.” With a twirl of her fingers, two cups of..something floated towards the table. Her gaze was an offer, “Thirsty?”

You’d nod, your throat suddenly dry. The drink was smooth and warm, with a bite of something fresh and crisp. It was much better than your rainwater. Gulping more of it down, you notice how she’d smile at your eagerness, careful not to spill as you’d raise the cup from its saucer. “Cider,” she’d mention, motioning to her mug, “Where are you from?” “My cavern is far from here. About half a day’s walk.” Wanda’s eyebrows would raise. “Cavern? You live in a cave?” Her interest was a delight, and you wanted to keep it for as long as you could. You didn’t answer her question, instead throwing one back at her, “Why do you live far from your town?”

“Bellmoor?” Amusement would blanket Wanda’s expression, snorting as she’d shake her head, twisting in her chair so she could lean forward towards you, “Because I like my peace and quiet. I assume the same for you, Птичка?” 

“What does that mean?” You’d ask, and she’d tut again. “Now now, that can be your next question, but it’s my turn.” She’d scrunch her nose at your grumbling acquiesce, and you couldn’t help but smile with her. You liked this game. Wanda rested her hands on her table, and your eyes were caught on the shimmer of her rings as she’d speak, “Can you control your transformation?” That one was easy. “Fuckin’ wish I could...” Wanda’s brows would reach her hairline at your curse, but you wouldn’t give her time to comment as yours would stream from your maw, though it’d stop early, “No Aegypius can. What does..”

“‘Птичка’ mean?” She’d grin, rasping her knuckles on the wooden grain at each syllable, “Little bird, birdie, you have feathers underneath your skin, yes?” You’d send her a taunting look, one that she met in equal measure. You’d smile back at her, “Is that your question?” 

Wanda would balk, gotten so caught up in teasing you that her words just tumbled out with no direction. You’d see her cheeks grow pink, clearing her throat with a stuttered breath, and you swear she felt like you did when you felt that flutter. “No, it isn’t-” She’d respond smoothly, but you caught how her eyes shimmered, and you took another sip of cider. You knew why when her words made your mind double-take, “Would you like to stay with me tonight?”

You almost spit out your drink, coughing on it as you’d sputter, blush alighting your face. You felt it warm and you tried to hide it away, your flustered reaction seemingly pleasing Wanda. She certainly didn’t know what that meant to you, “I..you want me to stay with you- I’m going to molt tonight, Wanda.” 

“And if I am to help your transformation, then I must see it in person,” She’d respond, never losing her smile. It soothed you, that richness in her tone and that calm in her expression, and you’d feel a new pull in your heart. One you hated.

Your instincts wanted you to ruin her. Wanted her vulnerable as she was, to splinter her bones into shards you didn’t even have to chew. 

To take advantage of her weakness, your hunger eating you alive unless you picked her clean, consumed-

You’d swallow, a shaky breath leaving you. Wanda had blinked, and your voice acted quicker than your mind would comprehend, “I don’t want it helped, Wanda. I want it gone.” You’d feel your skin itch at that, and a cold dread filled your gut, like the Matron’s chill held you once again. Your words were a whisper. “But I don’t think my body will let me.” 

“All the more reason for you to stay. Do you have anything that helps you calm down?” She’d ask, leaning forward with a gentle lilt. Her hand would’ve come across the table, offering her palm to yours. It was calloused, warm skin juxtaposed with smooth metal, and you took it in yours gratefully. You were starting to really like her company. 

------------------------------------------

The hours would’ve floated by you, a subtle bliss filling you as you and Wanda would’ve enjoyed the rest of your evening together. You could feel your body shift by the hour, and yet a part of you didn’t care if you were with her. You’d show her your chains, mentioning their unknown inscription and how they’d keep your form….distracted. You would be kept in the barn once the moonless night had begun, the sky within a period of tranquil dusk. She ghosted her hand across the rim of your shackles, and you were surprised they didn’t burn her like they did you. An Aegypius trait, you supposed. 

Wanda had made you stew using that pot from earlier, while you hovered in the vicinity, chopping up carrot and onion into more manageable pieces. The meal was finished after it had boiled for a long time, and it was only when you sat down to enjoy it with her that a blink of movement would catch your eye. The bay windows curved in a beautiful shape that let the last vestiges of light in, and you’d register the sight of silver metal piercing into the glass before you heard it smash. 

A figure leapt through its shattered remains, thick cloak blanketing their form to protect them from the glass. Their armor and longsword was polished beautifully, and they would be regal if it wasn’t for their war shout and barred teeth. You could see their face beneath their hood, just before the glint of their weapon as it’d slice down towards your chest. 

You’d dodge, rushing backwards until your back hit the other end of the wall. As the longsword would finish its downward arc, Wanda’s magic would cradle its blade, her hands outstretched and bent as if trying to push it up. Her voice was strangled and thin, heard between the thudding of your heartbeat in your ears, “run, Margo- go!” 

Turning to bolt, you’d hear the clatter of boots against wood as a rougher hand would grab you by the scruff of your neck. Writhing in their hold, you’d shove your elbow into the ribs of your attacker, before grabbing their hand from your nape to sink your teeth into it. “Fuck, you гриф-” The knight’s heavy breath was audible from behind your back. You’d bite harder, feeling their skin break beneath your jaw as you’d thrash, trying to cleave flesh off. They’d tear their hand from you, kicking your legs with a force that sent you barreling down. 

Your head would hit the hardwood floor, and you could hear the ringing in your ears as you’d look up, vision swimming as everything looked double. Your hooded attacker brandished their longsword with two hands above you, although it looked like they had four. Before they could stab the blade downward, Wanda’s hand would lurch out to their neck- pressing the kitchen knife into their throat as her other palm would scratch towards the knight’s eyes, the pair barreling backwards which left you an outside view that made your pupils retract into pinpricks. 

The sky was dark, illuminated with bright swaths of stars. Tears pricked at your eyes. The few treetops you saw couldn’t even reach its height, blanketing the world in an awaiting gloom. You knew the moon was out there, but you couldn’t see it. Your mind reeled, thoughts growing famished as you’d stare into its expanse. You licked your lips. The sky offered you reprieve, and who were you to deny its feast?

The wheezing pop of bone into stronger sockets would startle Wanda and her assailant into a tense standoff, your witch pinning the stranger to the floorboards while the knight tried in vain to grasp at their longsword that had been kicked many feet away. Your breath heaved with strength you hadn’t felt before, seizing as the voice that came from you was no more than a guttural hiss. Your skull would reshape, mouth widening into a curved beak, hooking into serrated edges, while your skull would become angular, bird like. Anything but human, you were no longer recognizable. Feathers would blanket the creature’s shifting musculature, tearing from roughened skin as they’d fan into shape. Its arms and legs grow as its fingers would lengthen, bat-like wings creaking before they’d be covered in plumage; ivory white on it’s neck and shoulders, cascading into darker blacks and blues elsewhere. The monster’s feathers wouldn’t remain unpigmented for long, as they’d begin to warm on its skin- sparks flying from where they touched, growing into a burnt umber. The beast would groan as its wings crashed to the floor- bipedalism was no longer an option, the force cracking the wooden boards. Horns would thunder from shaking its monstrous head, the beast’s eyes blinking into pale gold with a crimson ring surrounding them. A black line of feathers ran down the side of its face and to its gaping maw, tufted at its chin. Its feathers had heated into shades of orange, flecked with flame- while cyan speckled where its temperature had reached an apex.

Silence would still the room, the shaky inhale of breath marking the presence of living beings in it’s fray. The demon would blink again, a gnashing sound emanating from inside its cavernous beak. It’d then raise itself on its haunches, spread its twelve meter wingspan (shattering the walls in its wake), and echo a deafening, reverberating call into the night. 

The hunt had truly begun. Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

~~~

[soul-rillo]

Hello hello! Rillo here.

I just wanted to give a quick little update on a bunch of things.

FANFICTION

I'm still in the midst of my move but most of the hardest stuff has been done and sorted, so now, I'm trying to get back into the swing of things for work, drawing, and fic writing. The next fic to be updated will be Of Candied Pine and Cherried Smoke (I know, we've been waiting years! It's a good chapter though, so I hope it'll be worth it). I'm not sure when the time-travelling radiostatic fic will be released because I'd like some form of buffer for that—surprise! I don't have a buffer for anything nor have I ever. Whoops! Thought it'd be neat to try out.

ANIMATICS

I have... THREE animatics in the works. All radiostatic. One is a full length song (roughly 3 minutes). I'll post them here as well as youtube when any of them are done but I have a bad habit of starting new animatics right before I finish a different one.

RADIOSTATIC COMIC AU

Yes, you heard right! Soul and I are in early development for a radiostatic AU that will have lots of little comic snippets, some long multi-parters, some short with only an image or two. Either way, we're really excited to eventually share that with you guys here.

That's all I can think to mention right now. Until next time!

[novashelby]

The Girl With the Smile~Coming Soon!

Pairing: Arthur ShelbyxMaid!OFC

Warning(s): Age-gap, canon typical violence, period typical attitudes and language, power dynamics, future smut.

Summary: Matilda "Tilly" Swanson was a klutz who never really wanted to be a maid. Arthur Shelby was a manic wreck who never wanted the maid to begin with. What happens when a miserable old sod starts to find comfort in his younger and silly maid?

Excerpt:

He wanted to tell her that she was shit at her job, but what did Arthur Shelby know of dusting and polishing? Probably more than she, but not enough to intervene. He stood back and watched her wobble on a wooden stool that should have been trashed since before she was born. But the man was a hoarder, or so his brothers accused. He called it memories, they called it trash, and she called it vintage. Bloody fookin 'ell, vintage.

It was when they first met.

"Your home is very old-fashioned, Mr. Shelby," she said, her first loop around the property. Her fingers caressed the wooden fixtures and the marble accents.

"Thank you," he said. "I built it just a few years ago." Was he getting old? He had questioned himself, taking a quick look in the mirror for any stray grays. But it was when she commented you must be a man of old taste, that he answered, "I thought I was quite on trend."

Tilly slowly turned to him, wincing slightly. "Oh, my apologies. Well, you look good for your age? I don't know many fifty year olds who have kept their hair color."

"I'm forty-seven."

I will be posting my full length chapters for this multi fic on here, Ao3, and Wattpad. It will be quite different in what I normally write. It will contain a good amount of humor, fluff, some angst, romance, and of course, smut. However, the smut will be more focused on the emotional side versus raunchy.

Comment below if you want to be added to the taglist! :)

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Kinktober Day 10: Sensory Deprivation (III x Fem! Reader SMUT)

My first Sleep Token fic AAAAAAHHHH!!! I have been absolutely infatuated with III recently. This little smut piece has inspired a full length, multi chapter Sleep Token fic, so keep an eye out for that soon!!

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, MDNI, 18+, blindfolding, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, creampie, fingering, nipple play, some scratching if you squint, aftercare, established relationship, I think that's everything if I missed any let me know!

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You're sure about this?" You could hear the smile in his voice as he asked you. You nod in response, nervously fidgeting with the hem of your skirt. He places a finger under your chin, tilting your head up so you could meet his striking blue eyes. "With your words, love." His deep voice rumbles from his chest.

"I'm sure." You reply softly, searching what little you could see of his features for some sort of confirmation. Over your time of knowing III he had always remained a bit of an enigma to you, but you would be lying if you said he didn't make you a bit curious. You had been working in a close proximity to the small group for a while now, being one of the few operating businesses this deep into the wilderness they would often wander into your store for their weekly supplies run. At first it was only their leader, Vessel, that would enter the store. After a while, where you believed he was testing you to make sure you were safe, the other three began to join him. It was at that time you had met III.

"Good girl." He praises softly. Your breathing was shaky as you waited in anxious anticipation. You let out a long, slow breath as he laid the black satin sash over your eyes, carefully tying it in a snug knot. He places a warm hand on your shoulder, "remember we can stop if any of this is too much." You nod in response only for him to let out a soft chuckle. "Words, lovey."

"Okay." You stutter out. You place your hand on top of his, his fingers intertwined with yours as he brings your knuckles to his now unmasked lips. His hot breath fanned over your skin, his movements slow and deliberate as he allowed you time to adjust to the total darkness. You jolt slightly as his lips find your neck, he gives the hand he was still holding a gentle squeeze of reassurance, trying to ease your nervous state. You found yourself leaning into him, your body craving his soft touch. His free hand slides across your lower back until it wraps around your waist, a gentle nudge guiding you into his lap. The robe you had changed into slowly began to fall away, freeing up the expanse of your shoulders and top of your chest. You gasp softly at the feeling of his sharp teeth grazing your collarbone, his nose trailing up your neck until his lips landed on your pulse.

"How are you feeling?" You shiver as his breath fans over your exposed skin.

"Amazing." You respond quickly. With your sight taken away it gave you the opportunity to fully focus on what III had in store for you.

"Think you could straddle me, love?" He asks with a kiss to your cheek. After some careful maneuvering you sat facing III. He takes you gently by the wrists, guiding your hands up to the sides of his face. Stubble tickles your fingertips as they press into his warm face. You had never seen what III looks like without his mask, not completely anyways. Him baring himself to you like this, even if you couldn't see him, was the ultimate display of trust. He allowed you a moment to feel his features; your fingers trailed along his cheekbones, down the bridge of his nose, your thumb gently ran over his bottom lip. His large hands sat comfortably on your waist as he waited patiently for you to be satisfied with your examination. You grab his collar, pulling him in so your lips could find his. As you kissed him he worked off your robe a little more, the fabric now pooling around your waist. Goosebumps littered your skin at the feeling of cool night air drifting in from the open window. You let out a startled squeak at the feeling of III's hot mouth enveloping one of your nipples, a sultry groan rumbling from his chest. His hand comes up to massage your breast, the supple flesh squishing in between his fingers as he expertly flicks his tongue over your sensitive chest. Your fingers tangle into his hair, holding him close to you as you struggle to keep yourself quiet. He releases you with a loud pop before effortlessly standing with you in his arms and laying you back on the bed. His lips land on your stomach, taking his time to explore every bit of exposed skin as he allows you a moment to settle into your new position. He eased your legs open, his fingers ghosting over the inside of one of your thighs caused you to shiver. Your hands fist into the bedsheets, a loud cry escaping you as he grazed over your already sensitive clit. He chuckles softly, "you're already soaked and we've barely gotten started."

"Kind of hard to not get worked up when I can only focus on you touching me." You giggle in response, your cheeks immediately growing warm at his observation. Your back arches off the bed as III decides to return to his assault on your senses. His hand dipped back between your legs, rubbing slow, languid circle over the sensitive bundle of nerves. His free hand caresses the side of your face, his thumb pushing past your lips and into the warm cavern of your mouth. You eagerly swirled your tongue around the digit, eager to please, and even more eager for III to grant you the release you were so desperately seeking. You whine as he pulls his hand away from your clit, your frustration not lasting very long as you immediately felt the weight of his body lay on top of yours. His lips trail along your jaw as he lines himself up with your entrance. You can't stop yourself from crying out as he pushes himself inside of you, the pleasurable sting of him filling you so completely causing tears to prick at your eyes. You wrap your arms around him, wanting to feel every shift of his muscles as he lazily fucks into you, moans falling from your mouth like a prayer with every sharp thrust.

"You're so fucking pretty." He growls as he gradually begins to increase his pace. Your nails dug into his shoulders, dragging deep red scratches down his back as you found yourself unable to hold on any longer. You screamed his name as your orgasm tore through you, his relentless thrusts never slowing until he reached his own climax. He cursed as he pressed himself as deeply inside you as he could manage, you whimpered at the feeling of his hot load pooling inside you. You both lay in silence for a moment as you struggled to regain control of your breathing. One of III's warm hands trails over your side, giving it a gentle squeeze as he eases himself out of you as carefully as he can. "You lay right there love, I'm gonna take good care of you." You whined at the loss of warmth as he pulled off of you, you heard the soft shuffling of cloth as he pulled his mask back into place before removing your blindfold. Warm, loving blue eyes met yours as you squinted against the light in the room. You blinked a few times to allow your eyes to adjust, III carefully watching your expression for any sort of unease or discomfort. "Hey there, beautiful." The corners of his eyes crinkle into a smile. "Let's get cleaned up and we'll head to bed, yeah?" You nod, sleepily reaching out for him. III scoops you up in his arms, carrying you into the bathroom to take a hot bath. You weren't allowed to lift a finger the entire time, III insisted on taking care of you. You found yourself wrapped tightly in his warm embrace, the two of you exchanging slow, sleepy kisses as you basqued in the crickets song from the woods.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List: @spookyghostjelly @herripinkle @mustluvecho @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @jumpcauseimfroggy (I don't know who would like to be tagged for Sleep Token stuff, if you do let me know!)

[snek-panini]

It's been a month since Binderary ended but I've still got books to share! This is @worse0mens's (hi!) wonderful Good Omens series, The Blossom Realm, which starts with Omens of Another Kind. This is very much a longtime favorite of mine, an AU with a really compelling combo of worldbuilding and characterization. This is a believable grand romance that's also a court drama and a fairy tale, and it's really long (the full series is about 220k words) so it will keep you reading for a long time. This is one of the fics I learned bookbinding for, and it was the first really long fic that I typeset (and redid once I learned more about typesetting). It's been a long road but it was so worth it.

More photos under the cut!

Couple of photos of the spines. The series doesn't divide easily, with one very long work, one medium-length one, and several shorter pieces. The main story is nearly 200k on its own, the longest single volume I've ever made (about 500 pages), and I was worried about it getting too unwieldy, so I put all the other works into their own volume of about 100 pages. They make a disparate set but I love them. The cover is done in skiver green faux leather from Hollander's; I've never worked with this brand before but I loved it, and one sheet was big enough to do both books. The titles are done in cricut brand gold foil htv. There were some issues with that, as I'd bought a multi-pack with a few different colors and only found out after applying the front cover graphics on both books that one, I didn't have enough to do the backs and spines; two, that the gold in that pack is a totally different color than the gold they sell on its own; and three, that no one in my area stocked it anymore and I had to order it from Europe. Here's what the back looks like:

It's the same graphic as the front but without the title in the center, and it's one of the fanciest backs I've ever done and it took forever to weed all those little cutouts. The graphic was free to use on rawpixel. The font I used on the spines and front is a basic Microsoft font called Harrington that worked incredibly well on the cricut, even at small sizes; a lot of basic fonts are too thin, especially fancy ones, so this was a delightful surprise.

Photo of the top, with ribbon bookmark and handmade double core endbands. The endbands didn't come out as well as I'd have liked; they're a little uneven and the color changes aren't that evenly spaced. Double core ones are harder than I expected and I need more practice. The endpapers are chocolate silk moire, and I chose them because there's a very important massive tree in the fic and I thought they looked like wood grain. I did a little experimenting with the shorter volume that's visible around the edges of the endpaper. I wanted gilded edges but the longer book had to be rounded, and I thought I'd try paint instead of foil since I don't know how to foil a curved edge. But I did my experiments on the smaller volume and I couldn't get good coverage, so the edge had to be trimmed off. The watered-down paint had leaked into the edge of the silk moire too far for me to trim, so it's still there. But it's kind of pretty, so I'm going to call it an aesthetic choice.

The title pages are the same, with free graphics from rawpixel. I got lucky and found a similar set of roses that I used for the chapter headers:

These had to be positioned by hand for each chapter so they'd fit around the text properly. It was a pain but they look so pretty. The final photo contains a story spoiler, so proceed with caution if you don't want that:

The scene break image in both volumes is this tiny snake. This was one of the first aesthetic choices I made for the books. A lot of the plot is centered around a prophecy about a monster snake that everyone thinks will destroy the kingdom, and of course in the manner of Good Omens fic it's a wildly inaccurate misinterpretation and not a threat at all. I wanted something like this because the snake is not only non-threatening but it's been here the entire time and there was never any reason to freak out about it. It was surprisingly difficult to find a snake image that was both simple enough to still be clear at this size and also didn't look dangerous or like a cartoon character. I looked at so many snakes before I found this one, it's ridiculous.

And that's it! I hope the author likes it (and remembers me since I asked to do this almost a year ago). There are three more binderary posts forthcoming, though I don't know how long it'll take me to get to them. It was a busy month.

[myfairstarlight]

A Lover's Quill

AO3 Link.

Rated: M

Length: 2k

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton x Penelope Featherington

Canon Divergence

Based on my own post here, s1 AU in which a love letter is written instead of a scandalous gossip column...

This will be a multi-chaptered fic, but this first chapter can be read as a standalone. The whole story is already planned out! I'm not sure I will post every chapter on tumblr yet, but I will update on ao3 frequently as long as my life allows it.

Summary:

Dear Colin Bridgerton, As I understand it, this must be a farewell. Penelope’s fingers shake as she wraps them around her quill. Her eyes slide towards the crumpled pieces of paper scattered at the foot of her desk, wondering if such unrequited fantasy is even worth her tortured ink. Or. A s1 AU in which instead of a Whistledown column, Penelope writes a letter to Colin the night before he and Marina plan to elope.

*additional notes on ao3.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Dear Colin Bridgerton,

As I understand it, this must be a farewell.

Penelope’s fingers shake as she wraps them around her quill. Her eyes slide towards the crumpled pieces of paper scattered at the foot of her desk, wondering if such unrequited fantasy is even worth her tortured ink.

I wish I had the courage to tell you what I am on the brink of revealing to your face, so forgive my cowardness for hiding behind a quill instead. These past few weeks have been full of agonising feelings, and ones I had to fully come to terms with before I could share them with you.

She pauses as she hears commotions outside her door. Servants are running up and down the estate in their haste to gather Marina’s belongings.

I must apologise, for my meddling regarding your and Marina’s courtship. It was not my place to dictate what either of you should do or should feel, even in my misguided belief that I was helping. I do believe that if one is lucky enough to be in love, well, one should declare it as loudly and fervently as you have done, claiming Marina’s hand in front of her many suitors.

She has shared with me your plans to elope to Gretna Green, I hope you do not fault her for divulging your secret. That way, I can wish you all the luck and happiness.

Penelope takes a deep breath. She knows the next words to be the hardest to put into paper and her fingers start to shake once more.

I must, once more, beg your forgiveness for my cowardness as I cannot bring myself to say those words in front of you. I truly do wish for your happiness, and yet I know the words would get lost between my heart and my mouth because there is another truth I could never speak into existence, for I knew it to be a meaningless affair.

I love you, Colin. I have loved you for many years before either of us even debuted in society. Perhaps from the moment we met, it is quite embarrassing really.

Nothing would ever come out of it, I was aware. But you deserve to know, and perhaps I also needed to admit it, to put it into the world, so I may now move on and seriously consider my prospects when I had been fighting them all season. I hope I can find a match that ignites the fire that bursts within your heart with Marina. I hope I will be as lucky one day.

I bid you farewell, my dearest friend.

Yours Truly,

Penelope Featherington.

To her surprise, the tears she feels building up in her eyes do not fall as she carefully folds the paper and seals the letter. When the wax solidifies, Penelope drops a kiss over the butterfly design.

She thinks of the ironic accuracy of her family’s symbol. Just like her heart, a butterfly will not live long once it takes flight, but at least it is free.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Sneaking out to Bridgerton House is a familiar affair, Penelope is pretty sure Mrs Varley purposely looks away every time, a part of her cannot believe she truly is that invisible. The letter safely tucked in her bosom, she easily finds John, who looks at her with surprise and worry.

“Miss Featherington you should not—” he cuts himself off as Penelope thrusts the letter in his hand. “Ah. For Miss Eloise?”

“Mr Bridgerton,” Penelope corrects. “Colin, that is,” she clarifies, though John would know she barely ever speaks to Benedict outside of polite conversations and would have no reason to write to him. “Please make sure he receives it first thing in the morning. Is Eloise…?” She points towards the garden.

John nods, carefully putting the letter away. “Is everything alright, Miss?”

Penelope takes a deep breath. “You are aware of his plans, correct?”

“Indeed. I am to drive the carriage to the port.” A beat of silence. “For all that is worth, Miss, I do not think he is making a wise decision.”

She is not quite sure why, but servants have always felt comfortable gossiping in front of her, and even to her. Penelope will not complain, however.

“Well, it is not our place to say.”

“Is this letter not about that? Mr Bridgerton has always keenly listened to you.”

Penelope chuckles. “You flatter me, John. I do not think anyone has ever listened to me.”

But the Ton will gladly consume her every word, as long as it is put on paper. It would not have been worth losing Marina’s trust or breaking Colin’s heart, she thinks.

Although, a treacherous voice whispers in her mind, is it truly for the better, to keep silent? Though Colin believes himself in love, would it be enough to bear the burden of another man’s child? To feel the humiliation upon realising he was but a means to an end? And would Marina be able to live with herself? She has a good and kind heart, Penelope knows that to be true, but even the most beautiful souls can be pushed to cruel means when no other solution is within grasp.

Ultimately, Penelope thought, a couple of hours earlier when she decided against using her greatest weapon in Whistledown, this matter did not involve her. Marina is her cousin, Colin is her friend, but this issue only concerns them. Penelope has tried her best without breaking anyone’s trust, and she is at her limit. She cannot keep being the messenger.

And therefore, she has one more secret to divulge.

Curtseying in front of John — although she is aware she does not need to since he is a mere footman, she thinks it is still polite to do so — she ventures into the garden, to immediately find Eloise sitting at one of the swings. Their eyes meet, but Eloise does not move, nor does she scream at her to leave. So Penelope sits on the other swing.

“El.”

“Pen.”

The use of nicknames makes her smile.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“I’m sorry for not listening to you.”

A pause.

“However," Eloise huffs, "you were so wrong because you’re really pretty, Penelope, if only your mother did not have the most horrendous taste in gowns. Never speak of my best friend as such ever again!”

And just like that, they are friends again. Penelope could cry.

“There was another reason I did not wish to discuss Whistledown with you at the time,” she confesses. Eloise makes a questioning noise, a hand reaching for Penelope’s arm. Penelope squeezes it. “It is because I am Whistledown.”

There is a moment of silence as they stare at each other. For a moment, Penelope worries she won’t be believed. Who could imagine sharp and cunning Whistledown as the petite, two-stones-too-heavy Featherington girl? Eloise's grip has gone lax on her arm before suddenly the brunette girl brightens up.

“Of course!” she exclaims. “It makes so much sense! My best friend, the cleverest woman feared by the Ton!”

Penelope blinks, taken aback, before giggling at her friend’s pure excitement. “Eloise! You exaggerate.”

“Oh, you must tell me how you managed such a fit! And do I get the exclusive before anyone else now?”

Penelope smiles and nods enthusiastically, holding Eloise's hands preciously between hers.

If she must say goodbye to her love, at the very least she will always have Eloise and frankly, it is as good, if not better.

“But say, is it still true? Do you wish to marry even though you have such a gem within your hands?” Eloise asks, her voice gone soft. “You could be entirely independent, you do not need a man.”

Penelope lets out a forlorn sigh. “I still wish for it, although I very much doubt I ever will.”

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

John has never been one to care for his employers’ affairs. When the other members of the staff start to gossip, he tends to turn his head and not listen, out of respect. This season has truly tested his limits, however, between Miss Bridgerton, now Duchess of Hastings, debuting, and Mr Bridgerton, the youngest — bar little Gregory — getting so unexpectedly engaged.

And of course, the now notorious Lady Whistledown who rose from the shadows seemingly out of nowhere, stirring up society for being such a bold and yet secretive woman. Gossip had become an inherent part of everyday life, more so than it already was. Whistledown held up a mirror in the Ton’s face to heighten the whispers, and so the Ton speaks even louder because they love to look at themselves.

All that to say, John cannot help but be curious. Miss Penelope’s letter feels heavy. Not literally, of course, but the metaphorical weight of it feels monumental. It is as if he failed to deliver it in time, the world would not be turning on its axis any longer. There was a quiet resignation on the young lady’s face, so far from the warmth she usually bears. In truth, when he heard that Miss Penelope had debuted early and that Mr Colin Bridgerton was courting someone, John, much like the rest of the staff, had assumed she was the one he was courting. There was obvious affection between them, of a sweet and innocent kind, rare in its beauty, and everyone believed they would follow the path Lady Bridgerton and her late husband followed, finding true love at a young age in each other. Alas, perhaps it was only wishful thinking.

And again, it does not concern John, he is merely the messenger — or the driver.

Even so, he decides he would rather not wait. He is aware most of the family is still awake, including the very Bridgerton he is in search of. He finds him brooding in the library, a likely place for him to be, fidgeting by the window.

“Sir,” John says, startling the young man who almost drops the book he was holding. “A missive, for you.”

“A missive?” Colin repeats, intrigued and wary.

“From Miss Penelope, sir,” John clarifies, giving him the letter. He sees the moment Colin's shoulders relax, and his eyes bear a spark of happiness at the sound of her name.

Ah. Foolish youth.

“Right. Thank you, John.”

John nods, bows, then takes his leave. It seems this social season, although coming to its end, will still be full of surprises.

And if it prevents him from waking at the breaks of dawn the next day, he will not be complaining.

(A mere hour later, he catches Colin sneaking out of the house and running across the square. John suspects a new scandal shall befall this family in the morning.)

[yinyuedijun]

I feel like in general life would be so much easier if authors just started tagging different fic types on here (bc we can't easily sort by wc the way you can on ao3)... like

archetype post

headcanons

multi character

thirst

drabble

full length fic

long fic

multi chapter

the dream...

[spicemaidenfic]

( image powered by AI )

Him | Star Wars | Obi-Wan x Reader

✶ Summary: You love being his apprentice and all it entails...

✶ Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Padawan! Reader

✶ Warnings: Smut (18+)

✶ Length: Short one shot, 1.4k words

✶ A/N: A short piece that I churned out in a day or two amid having stacks of multi-chapter fics that I will need the power of God and Anime to finish (bear with me chronic illness doesn't help me stay organized lol)

The mountain skyline’d made for a lovely view, but the best view was below you. 

➢ Read the full fic here

[sallysavestheday]

End of Year Fic Recs!

Recommend up to 5 series or multi-chapter fics from 2023 that everyone should read (multi-year WIPs count, if the last update was in 2023).

Recommend up to 5 single chapter fics/one-shots (long or short) from 2023 that everyone should read.

Recommend up to 5 fics NOT from 2023 that everyone should read (oldies but goodies).

Recommend up to 5 of your own fics (completed or WIP) from 2023 that everyone should read.

My recs are all Tolkien, a mix of canon and AU, angst and fluff and humor, with a variety of lengths and ratings from G to E. Please check the tags on each fic before you read!!

5 series/multichapter fics:

Atandil by @eilinelsghost (Finrod/Beor)

seabird by @welcomingdisaster (Fingon/Maedhros AU)

The Harrowing by @chthonion (Annatar/Celebrimbor very much post-canon)

companions in shipwreck by spellworth (173 women from Tolkien's works)

Ungoliant's Bane by @polutrope (Earendil, Elwing, Elrond, and Elros)

5 single-chapter fics/one-shots:

Inflection by @thelordofgifs (Maedhros, Maglor, Elrond, Elros)

wedding dance by @swanmaids (Maglor/Maglor's wife)

This Living Earth by @searchingforserendipity25 (Maedhros, immediately post-canon)

Fourteen Hours by @clothonono (Fingon/Maedhros, Returned)

It would make every nightingale sing by eye_of_a_cat (Maedhros/Elwing)

5 oldies but goodies:

Recalled to Life: Alqualonde by Anna_Wing (Maedhros, Returned)

A reason to live (a reason it is not permissible to die) by Chestnut_pod (Elwing/Earendil)

What Your Life Is by @starspray (Maglor, post-canon)

The West Wind Quartet by @hhimring (Maglor & OC)

dear fellow traveler by @raisingcain-onceagain (Finrod/Edrahil)

5 of mine from 2023:

Thy Brothers' Keeper: Finarfin rues his role in the House of Finwe

Not By Wisdom But By Love: Beleg and Turin: the beginning

Tender Morsels: Fingon/Maedhros, loving monstrousness

A Sea Change: Reborn Curufin learns to live again

Full Disclosure: Fingon/Maedhros, Finrod/The Speaking Peoples, epistolary science and ridiculousness

Tagging @melestasflight @cuarthol @antares0606 @dreamingthroughthenoise @idrilsscribe @gellalaer @anerea-lantiria @echo-bleu @grey-gazania @spiced-wine-fic @tathrin and authors of the fics I listed. Let's hear what you've enjoyed this year. What do you recommend?

[sky-eira]

So I have three potential JonDami multi-chaptered fics to replace my current main WIP once it’s finished. One of them will be written into a full-length fanfic.

This is a rough summary draft of Fanfic 1: M/E-rated JonDami a/b/o dynamics, Jon and Damian are 21 y.o.

Optimistic, cheerful, and gifted with powers beyond imaginings, Jonathan Kent was a literal world-famous superhero. He was Superman, a courageous Kryptonian alpha who had tackled impossible tasks and dared to accept all challenges except one: courting the one person who had been his greatest weakness for eight long years.

Beautiful, bold, and arrogant, Damian Wayne was an omega sitting on a throne of power. He was heir to empires and an unimaginable wealth, and—unknown even to himself—the owner of Superman’s heart. Damian was fiercely untamable and had never been brought down to his knees. Alphas kept vying for his attention, each turned away with their hearts shredded into ribbons.

Jon was none too eager to join the club, until he witnessed Damian showing interest in an alpha he met at a gala. The sight made him taste acid, and he realized that it was time for him to face his greatest challenge yet: claim Damian’s heart, the way Damian had unknowingly claimed his.

And Jon did not like sharing.

Potential Tags: Childhood Friends to Lovers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Jealousy, Protective Jon Kent, Possessiveness, Oblivious JonDami, Awkward Courtings, Power Play/Power Dynamics, Alpha Jon, Omega Damian

Fanfic 2: T-rated JonDami Hogwarts AU, Gryffindor Jon x Slytherin Damian. Summary to come.

Fanfic 3: M/E-rated Married JonDami a/b/o dynamics. Summary to come.

[enchantedchocolatebars]

Important News + Schedule 💕 🎉 💟 ✨

Since I want 2024 to be a year filled with nothing but writing progress for me, I've decided to work less on short fics so that I can focus more on my ao3 uploads and my multi-chapter Caleb x Clara (My Wittewife) story that I've been secretly working on.

It's titled "A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human".

(Commission art here)

This is going to be my first time ever writing a full-length fic, and I'm very excited, but also very nervous lol. 😆 😅

NOW DON'T YOU WORRY FOLKS WHO ENJOY READING THE SHORT FICS.

I'LL STILL WRITE THEM SINCE I LOVE DOING THEM + I TOO HAVE IDEAS I WANNA SEE GET WRITTEN + I WILL GET TO ALL THE ONES IN MY INBOX EVENTUALLY, I just won't write them as much.

Of course, anyone and everyone is still welcome to send requests and their headcanons or other stuff sincs my inbox is and has always been open (I'll also answer short stuff too.) 💕 💚 👍 ✅ .

When it comes to my ao3 uploads, I believe that if I upload at least one piece of old content each week, I can get a lot of written content on the site before 2025 (and I'll be able to grow my fan base of readers lol).

Anyway, I think I've said enough lol.

Now, here's the schedule for this week.

Sunday 12 / 31 - "Like To Love You (The Written Animatic)" - (December 31st is Caleb's birthday [Personal headcanon of mine. Wrote a story about it last year.], and we get a cute montage of Clara [My Wittewife] making sure he has the best day ever!) [I USUALLY DON'T ADD SUNDAYS TO MY SCHEDULES BUT TOMMORROW IS AN EXCEPTION. Requested by no one, it's purely self-indulgent lol.] (Fic here.)

Monday 1 / 1 - An ao3 upload (here).

Tuesday 1 / 2 - An ao3 upload (here) and (here)

Wednesday 1 / 3 - An ao3 upload (here.)

Thursday 1 / 4 - I WILL TRY TO FINISH THIS! 😭 (It's for the full length fic). (I FINISHED IT)

Friday 1 / 5 - Post chapter titles for "A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human". Of course, I won't beat myself up if I can't, BUT I WILL TRY TO. 😭 (They are here.)

Saturday 1 / 6 - Post commission cover art for "A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human". I spoke to a mutual of mine who does a lot of commission art for me and she said that she can have the piece done by then, so hooray!!! 💕 🎉 (Art here)

[tanthamorewinterfest]

Winterfest Rules

Tanthamore Winterfest is a two month long event full of writing and art prompts based around the pairing Kit Tanthalos/Jade Claymore from Willow, brought to you by the makers of @tanthamoretober. The goal is to have some chill, flexible reasons to write during the months of December and January. This challenge also encompasses other characters and pairings within the Willow universe.

How does it work? You create fan content inspired by one of the prompts and post it during the challenge period, which starts December 1, 2023 and ends January 31, 2024. You can do one shots or string the prompts together for a multi-chapter fic, and all types of fan content are welcome: art, fic, vids, fan mixes, rec lists, meta, memes.

What prompts? We have multiple types of prompts, and you can choose what inspires you best. There are four lists of text-based tables, and three moodboards in case visual prompts speak to you more. You can pick and choose from any of these and interpret them any way you like.

Text prompts: Masterlist

Text-based: Out in the Cold

Text-based: In From The Cold

Text-based: Summer Edition

Text-based: Dialogue

Moodboards: Masterlist

Why are there summer prompts in a winter fic challenge?

Because some people live in New Zealand, okay? Or other places. Apparently there's a whole hemisphere where December and January are summer months, and if you're not feeling wintery at this time of year we don't want that to hold you back from participating!

How do I share my cool stuff? Add it to the Winterfest collection on AO3!

(Use the ‘Post to collection’ button, or see How do I add work to a collection for more info.)

On tumblr, use the tag 'tanthamorewinterfest’ so others can find it (as well as any relevant content/pairing/prompt tags.) You can also tag this blog, and we’ll reblog things throughout the month.

Does it have to be Tanthamore? It doesn’t! You can create things for any prompt with any character or characters from Willow, you can write different pairings, you can do whatever you want forever. Just make sure that your fics are tagged appropriately!

Can it be any rating? Yes absolutely! Write the most E-rated thing your little heart desires, just tag it as such so readers can decide for themselves.

Can it be any length? Sure! There is no minimum or maximum word limit.

Does it have to be canon? Nope - it can be canon, canon-divergent, or any kind of AU you would like to write!

Does it have to be finished? Nope, not at all. If one of the prompts inspires you to start a long fic, you are still totally welcome to add it to the collection during December-January and carry on working on it after the challenge is over. We will close the collection after the challenge is complete (probably sometime in the first week of February) but you can continue adding chapters to anything you have already added.

If you have any other questions, just send us a message :)

[cookies-and-mirrors]

Prison of Stone and Flesh

Chapter Nineteen

This is a collaborative fic between @cookiesupplier and @faceless-mirror.

Dividers by @samspenandsword @cafekitsune @saradika-graphics

Authors Note: Trigger Warning for assault and past abuse. Please tread carefully.

Pairings: Multi-Pairings, Everybody x Everybody.

Triggerlist: transphobia, homophobia, abuse, SA, dubcon, religious trauma, past suicide attempts, mental health issues, grief, death, violence, (To be added to)

Christopher, Justin, and Ryan are members of the Gargoyle Order, soldiers fighting in the angels war against the demonic supernatural evils of the world to protect human kind. Through the years they lost comrades and now just the three of them remain in their little town.

Now, Ricky and Vinny are moving into their church, stirring up old and new feelings, along with the past, posing the challenge of navigating this new chapter in their lives.

Can they all navigate this path successfully and break free of the prisons that is their lives of both stone and flesh, or will they all be trapped forever in a world that could prove to be a constant misery?

MASTERLIST HERE

Taglist: @miamore0570 @21-century-tae @dragon-chica @shilohrosechicken @phxntxsmicgoricxl

@missduffsblog @witchyweeb34 @spicywhenspeaking @lacktoesandtoddlerants @blackveilomens

@bngurngheart @dominuslunae @collapsedglasshouses @emmmm127 @sunsshinesunny

@latenightmusiclover @dontdiganothergravetoday

(please comment/like/reblog/message to be added to taglist)

Chapter Nineteen

Ryan, Justin, and Christopher climbed the stairs towards the rectory, only this time, they had Ricky, and Vinny coming alongside them. They’d all been up the long hours of the night for the party, and they stay’d up, to help them clean afterwards, not to mention, they were so used to staying awake, it was easier for them to do. Now, though, it was almost dawn, and Justin had gotten excited, pointing out this would be the very first time they knew. They knew they were gargoyles now. Did they want to see them actually fully turn to stone?

So, that was what they were doing now! Ryan had admittedly rolled his eyes and said they weren’t a circus sideshow, but, whatever, let's go.

Ricky and Vinny had changed out of their costumes, wearing jammies and comfy clothes sighing softly with exhaustion, cleaning the rest would have to wait til the next day… or at least later in the day. “We might… need to nap in here before going upstairs to sleep…” Ricky admitted with a content smile and leaned up kissing Justin’s cheek, offering a soft smile to Ryan too. “We’ll have coffee for you guys tonight still.” he offered softly, stepping back as Vinny made out with Chris a moment longer. 

“I’ll see you tonight-” Vinny said softly, petting Chris face softly, looking up at him so tenderly and caring.

The gargoyles had all changed out of their costumes to help clean up the start of the mess from the party, though the rest would have to be left until later. Ryan hoped Ricky and Vinny waited until they woke up. Especially the worst of the disaster Justin had created with the chocolate fountain. After everyone had left, he had thought it was smart to want to stick his head into the thing instead of the fruit. He pointedly didn’t watch them all say good night, but the smile, he swallowed, nodding back to him, almost, almost even smiling himself faintly before it disappeared. His night had had slightly peaceful moments, which had felt, interesting, he wasn’t sure where they had come from, but the rest, had been confusing, and he wasn’t sure what to make of the stranger. Thankfully, they had left without a fuss. Thinking about it, he touched his hammer by his side thoughtfully, it was contracted to a shorter length currently, just a basic war hammer right now. He could extract the hammer handle to its full six feet when needed, it wasn’t tonight, thankfully. For once, aside from that one little hellhound issue earlier on Chris’ walk with Vinny, Halloween had been quiet, that had been a surprise. 

Ryan climbed onto his platform, glancing away from Vinny and Christopher, watching the other pair step up onto theirs, and waited for the stone prison to take them. Usually, they took their beast forms for effect for this, but tonight, now that Vinny and Ricky knew, they didn’t need to if they didn’t want to, it was a choice… He heard the sound of the change taking Christopher, Justin beside him… And felt the tingle of the dawn as always, but then… nothing…

His eyes danced around the room… his hand unreasonably warm as he glanced at Ricky and Vinny, confused. Why wasn’t he stone?

Vinny stared. “What the fuck-”

The door opened and in stepped Gwynn, pulling off their mask that faded off, turning into runes on Justin and Christopher.  They smiled at Ryan awkwardly. “Hey, Baby… sorry I was gone, I can explain- I'm not even technically cleared now even-” they rambled leaning on their cane, wobbling slightly, long silver hair falling, it was too long, far too long.

Gwynn, the stranger, they, they were here… that… that face… Ryan’s breath caught when he saw their whole face as they took off their mask, it just disappeared into thin air. The ability to apply runes like that, he’d only seen it once before, Jerahmiel never did that, he always, always had to apply them by touch… Ryan’s head tilted slightly, staring at this, this, Gwynn as they stepped in… sorry they were gone… thinking over what they’d said earlier. Choking in his throat… they… they… No. No. No!

It got worse.

They hadn’t- They… just been healing. Ryan had forgotten. How? How had he… And he felt it, the disgusting sick churn in his stomach, the same disgust and ugly feeling every time that he- He would do things to him- That was how. Ryan’s eyes prickled with tears as he looked at Gwynn, by the angel, it, it was Gwynn. They, they were home. They were finally home. He finally had them back. For a bare moment, Ryan felt pure joy clenching his heart, a feeling he had not felt for almost as long as he could remember, thanks to another angel stripping away at his mind, tainting his memories. He moved without thinking, a massive hand reaching up and cupping that delicate beautiful face that he loved so much, Justice, Gwynn, and brought his lips to theirs. The kiss was sweet, soft, more than he’d been for anyone, willingly, in over a thousand years.

Gwynn gave in, kissing back immediately, eyes watering as they melted for Ryan, fully relaxing as they looked up at him. Pressing closer, they didn't stop kissing til Ryan did.

As the kiss broke, something in Ryan broke too. It all came crashing down for him. Reality. A thousand years. A thousand years Gwynn had left him here to rot, they apologized that they hadn’t come back sooner, that they were still healing, but what good did that do him? He had been abused by a monster for centuries, thinking they were fucking dead. No one told him that his mate was even alive. There were angels all over the world, there was even him, not that Ryan would expect he would have told him. Anyone could have gotten a message to him, somehow. It wasn’t like he was hidden away in the far vestiges of the world. It must not have been worth it, he must not have been worth telling. Why would he be, he was just a gargoyle. Gargoyles were never worth more than how useful they could be to angels, and considering he knew he’d be obstinate for the past thousand years, doing everything he could to oppose his abuser. He’d pushed himself the pure opposite way on purpose. He’d want more feminine, Ryan pushed to be masculine. He picked him a gargoyle to breed with, Ryan refused to consent. They went around and around in circles for centuries. It got uglier and uglier as time wore on. 

Thinking about everything he endured, every ugly, bitter, horrifying dark painful thing he suffered at the hands of that monster while Gwynn was off hiding, not even out there to give Ryan just a shred of hope… As Gwynn looked up at him with nothing but pure love and adoration, Ryan snapped, and with a dark look, he lost himself and went and slapped Gwynn sharply across the face to the floor. 

The sound of the angel hitting the ground was horrific and cold, the heavy thump of flesh meeting the wall to the dull thump of them hitting the carpet, breathing hard.

A lazy glance over his shoulder to the gargoyles behind him, Christopher and Justin had woken from their stone forms by now, both looking on, dazed, confused, and a bit horrified to see Ryan attack the disabled angel unprovoked… “I believe you have business with our new handler, Christopher, I’m done with them.”

Damn straight, Chris was in shock, as he and Justin stepped off their platforms, witnessing Ryan kissing the angel… Dammit, their new handler, he was dreading this day arriving, but he was not going to let them hurt Ricky, or touch Vinny… and by the angel, “Ryan!” Chris exclaimed as the younger struck them, only for him to so calmly turn and look at him, and Chris moved towards the angel on the floor. For all his annoyances at the higher beings, and all the fact that they could destroy him with a word… They were barely able to walk, and Ryan had just slapped them down!

The angel grunted in pain, holding up a hand, “No… no… I de- deserved that. Go be with your mate, Christopher. I'm fine.”  they urged, not looking up, fighting the sting of pain from not being allowed to love their mate. The fact their mate struck them. It was as if a switch had been flipped.

Feeling sick, they sat up, ignoring the gold blood from biting their tongue, recoiling from Chris’ touch almost fearfully as they pulled away fully, shaking some. The angel swallowed and didn’t look up at Ryan or Christopher, almost as if they were expecting more strikes to hit at them. Expecting it from all sides. For all of them to start. 

Ricky and Vinny were frozen. Though Ricky seemed more terrified than anything. Ryan hit an angel… an angel was in the Rectory. He was a nephilim… he was scared. “Let's get you an ice pack.” He got out despite his trembling, nearly choking on his words that could hardly be forced out.

Christopher, Chris, didn’t even hesitate to kneel and help the angel up though, even with their words, and his breath caught with the realization, a flood of memories coming back to him. It was like dust had been blown away in one swoop as he helped them to their feet.

“Justice… Gwynn… shit.”

The one angel that Chris didn’t have to obey. The one angel that was kind enough to command him to never be forced to obey them from the moment that they’d realized the flaw in the original gargoyle design. Glancing at Ryan, wondering what was going through his head that he’d assault his mate like that, had he gone insa- oh… That… Chris didn’t want to consider that.

“Maybe we should all head downstairs, get you that ice pack, and have a seat to talk, well, Vinny, Rick, maybe you should go rest. It’s been a long night.” he didn’t want them to have to worry about this, and one look at Ricky, the nephilim, well, perhaps it was better if he got some rest and stayed calm. Chris was giving him an out.

Ricky looked at Chris thankfully, already slipping towards the door, unprepared to confront this right now. Though, Vinny was the one to speak up. “Wait. Hold up. Gwynn- you died-”

“I almost died. It doesn’t matter- It doesn’t- It doesn’t matter,” They whispered, leaning on their cane and heading downstairs after Ricky had disappeared downstairs stealthily.

The angel sat down in the café in a pew and hid themselves in the corner, looking away, a heavy white shirt wrapped around their thin frame.

Once they were all downstairs, Chris went to get Gwynn an ice pack from the bar kitchen, wrapping it gently in a cloth so it wouldn’t be so hard on their skin. He brought it over to them as they set themselves in one of the booths that had been fashioned from the start, using with the pews of the old Church. Chris sat across from them, even as they tried to hide.

“Almost died? We never found out how, Jerahmiel came to tell us the news, and in the years after that, he, well, he made it difficult to trust him. Despite it being required of us, and then about a century ago, he just disappeared.” Which, if Chris was honest, he was more than thankful for.

Ryan did not go sit with the others, Justin joining Christopher in the booth, instead he went right for the bar to find a bottle of whiskey and pour himself a healthy… unhealthy glass really. Oh, he wanted to skull the entire bottle, he’d pay Ricky back later.

“Thank you, Christopher,” they said taking the pack to adjust it, with a heart and heavy mind, ignoring the violent emotions and feelings in their chest.

Gwynn sighed, looking away, feeling sick, “Of course he wouldn’t tell you- I had to rush. I should still be in heaven, in lock up-” they froze, changing direction. “But I wasn't going to let you guys have another… angel-” they grumbled softly, “I have to keep my head down, I have to-” they grit their teeth. They sighed, holding the ice pack to their face but averted their gaze. “I should have pushed harder to come back sooner- to escape-” their voice was soft, full of regret.

Frowning, so Jerahmiel knew what had happened to Gwynn all along, of course he had. It made Chris wonder what had happened, and made him want to find and get his hands on Jerahmiel for answers. Asking Gwynn felt like in poor alternative right now, given their condition. Sadly, from how long they’d been gone, considering that Gwynn had been gone for a thousand years and sounded like they should be gone even longer, he had no doubt Jerahmiel was in on all of it. Even if Gwynn had eventually come back… how much longer would it have taken? Especially considering gargoyles went insane without their mates, did they really just assume Ryan would be fine? Chris didn’t want to admit, after the display upstairs, he was starting to wonder if he wasn’t finally starting to slip… If, maybe, Gwynn came back too late and Ryan was on his way to half feral, the fact that he’d lasted this long was astounding enough, it had never happened before… Never… 

“Chris.” He corrected quietly. “You can call me Chris, if you like, everyone can… If they'd like.”

He sighed, but that, that wasn’t the issue now, “Wait, wait… escape?” Gwynn had said escape, if that was true, and they were never meant to come back, that changed everything.

“I… I don’t… want to talk about it.” The way they spoke was in of itself a quiet no. The only denial that the angel had ever uttered to them. “Where’s Honesty? He should be up here by now- He could come out of the catacombs.”

Hearing the way Gwynn said it, had Ryan just staring across the bar at them, his face devoid of emotion. What the fuck was that even? Ryan hadn’t even gotten to properly mourn their supposed death… Thanks to the… The… The fucking angel command from Jerahmiel. He took in a breath. A thousand years without Gwynn, years without his mate, he hadn’t even been worthy of an explanation of why. Then again, what did he expect, he’d forgotten his own mate, he deserved nothing. Blinking, he looked away from them. 

“Honesty is dead, gone for centuries now, or did Jerahmiel not report that to your superiors like he was supposed to? Sure as hell told us after he fell.” Pouring out some more whiskey for himself, the glass of the bottle clinking to the cup.

“Atsuko is alive. He's in the catacombs, Jerahmiel was keeping him there to try to corrupt him- Archangel Jophiel got in touch with him-” Gwynn said in a panic now, jumping up to their feet, cane clattering to the floor.

“I need to get to the catacombs and bring him out!”

Ryan snorted derisively at the bar, sure, corrupt Honesty, yeah, that would have gone down real well. Ryan himself felt violently ill every time he lied just because he knew how much others tended to feel included to trust him implicitly with his virtue, it came with his nature. Honesty? He was just something else entirely. Chris glanced over at Ryan, he was trying really hard to put up this wall right now, it was painfully obvious, and the elder gargoyle didn’t know what to do about it. 

“No offence Gwynn, I know it might seem like some of the angels have been helpful to you, helping you heal, but for us, they just left us here-”

Chris started gently, not sure quite the extent of Gwynn’s terms of escape because they wouldn’t explain and didn’t want to assume, but then Ryan’s glass at the bar glass slammed down, hard. The loud noise rocking through the bar. “Fuck no, all the damn offence. Justice. You assholes left us down here to rot. Alone. There are three of us. Three. That's all that's left, the rest of us have been maimed, tortured, and picked off one by one. Sure, the last couple of months we’ve had Vinny and Ricky, but that's fucking it. So what’s next, huh? The riot act because we haven’t exactly been following the fancy angel edicts about how we should behave like proper mutts? Hmmm?” That was after all what Jerahmiel would refer to them under his breath when he thought Ryan wasn’t listening while he was assaulting him. As it were, he knew Chris didn’t want to lose Vinny because of the fucking edicts.

Gwynn leaned on the table, hands shaking as they listened to the seething words their mate uttered, breaking his heart so harshly, so violently. Hearing him call himself a mutt almost making Gwynn’s knees nearly buckle under the implication, “W…what- No! I wouldn’t- I’m not- I'm actually happy for you-” they rambled before hesitantly explaining, “I’m not a full angel anymore- I’m… I’m fallen.” they said awkwardly looking away, partially afraid, almost ready to fly away if attacked even if their wings wouldn’t support them long enough. 

“Chris… Your troupe is Archangel Jophiel’s pride and joy. She… she made sure I would get here as soon as possible.” They rushed out, the words spoken before more could be said or done. 

Chris watched Gwynn rush out in shock, staring after them for a moment, trying to comprehend what they were saying. Shaking his head, Chris, glanced at Justin, Vinny, even Ryan had looked as shocked as he felt at this news, too surprised to be an ass for the moment. Chris got to his feet, “Justin, go check on Ricky while I help Gwynn in the catacombs find Atsuko. It’s been awhile, and who knows where he is down there.” Chris had been down there a few times, considering he used to hide Chenza’s ashes down there. Moving after them now, he went to follow Gwynn down into the catacombs.

Gwynn had moved out of their way, so far, out of their way, to avoid getting close to Ryan. They would never admit it openly, but they were scared of their mate. Of their gargoyles. Every movement made them jump, their grip on their cane tighter than it should have been, as long silver hair blew back with the pace they moved.

Chris had noted Justin leave the booth to head upstairs, unsure what Vinny was going to do. However, after how Gwynn literally avoided going near Ryan, he sighed at how the other gargoyle sullenly stared at his glass of whiskey sitting on a barstool. That, could not end well now, and it hurt his heart, those two had been part of the reason he had even wanted a mate one day. Approaching Gwynn, Chris noting how wary they were, it was impossible to miss. “I can help, Gwynn, you don’t have to go alone. I was probably the last down there… aside from Atsuko himself, that is.” Walking just behind them towards the catacombs, not wanting to pressure them if they said no, however. The gargoyle was careful of each step, his pace even, so he didn’t out pace them.

The angel trembled some hearing Chris behind him, fear gripping the angel before nodding slowly, “Of course- of… of course you can come with, Chris.” they said softly, hands shaking a bit as they reached the door still keeping some distance.

Standing before the door he pressed forward unlocking the door leading down to the catacombs and pushed it open, easing in, stepping into the dank stale air. How Atsuko lived down here, they were almost certain they would never understand. He had always been an odd duck. A very odd duck. But an appreciated one.

They grunted, pulling out an electric lantern and held it up, casting wide shadows over the walls from broken caskets and pottery. They sighed and ran their fingers through their hair, glancing towards Chris, ignoring how sore their face was. “We need to get to the deepest part.”

Keeping up with Gwynn easily, his legs carrying his massive frame after the angel, the deepest part of the catacombs, perfect. He’d never been in that deep, the catacombs were forbidden for a reason they were scared in their culture, going in there for the ashes had been practically sacrilegious, however, for Chenza he’d do anything. So, to find out that Jerahmiel has trapped Atsuko down there, it was horrific.

“Gwynn, wait…” As he walked with them, his eyes adjusting to the light in the dark, he’d have preferred the pitch black of darkness, it would have meant he could see better, but he knew their eyes weren’t equipped that way. “Please, don’t hold Ryan’s attitude against him. I think… Jerahmiel, he targeted him. Ryan never wanted to talk about to what extent, but we know he did.” Chris also didn’t like talking about the way the angel took advantage of him being unable to defy him when he figured that trick out… The others, the others, just thought he was ever the loyal and obedient one. Fulfilling his responsibilities to their handler.

Gwynn sighed, “Chris… I’m not upset with Ryan.” they sighed and looked up, “I knew I wouldn't be received well. I knew that… but it’s more complicated than that… He’s not the only one who went through things… I never thought… I didn’t think he would strike me. He was the only reason I pulled through. I will always do anything for him. But… I can’t say I’m not scared. I love him… but I am scared.” 

They walked steadily towards the dark depths. “I love him. I always will. I would do anything he asks of me.”

Oh, Chris knew that feeling, he’d do literally anything Vincenza asked of him, she had gotten him to dress as a prince, another time as a damn knight… a literal knight in shining armour. The suit was still here, in the catacombs, actually, Chris had brought it down when the reservations had started in an effort to keep them from throwing it away. He hadn’t dared risk it. Chris swallowed, thinking about how Ryan had struck Gwynn though, the thought of ever doing that to Vinny. Worse, he knew Ryan knew, he knew who they were, Gwynn wasn’t reincarnated like Vinny had been. “Let me, point out, this in no way condones what he did… I don’t… Ryan hasn’t trusted angels in a long time, Gwynn, while we have all struggled with it… but for him, with his virtue… it’s…” Trust was everything for Ryan, and seeing any angel, was going to be difficult for Ryan. Ricky, Ricky, was a different breed. They’d known him since he was a kid, and he was half human. In a sense, they trusted the human part of him, more than the angel part of hum.

“I wish I could tell you it’s going to be easy for us to have an angel around again, but it’s not, it’s been a long time since we’ve had to walk on those eggshells on what we do, and what we say.”

Gwynn was stiff as they walked, aching, careful not to stumble along despite the uneven floor and stonework. “… I’m sorry I’ve disappointed everyone.”

Chris reached for Gwynn gently, to steady them, just a soft touch of their shoulder, despite the fact Gwynn flinched away immediately on instinct, Chris sighed, feeling immediate regret that Gwynn feared him so. “Gwynn, I- for years all we knew was that you were attacked, you were gone, the one light we had from the angels. Since then, nothing has been…” Chris swallowed looking ahead, while he couldn’t say everything was monstrous, there had been good things in his life. He had moments of joy in his life, moments that he has fought so hard to try to grasp on to, but it had been a battle, and they always seemed to be destroyed in the end. His eldest son needlessly slaughtered at the hands of rouge demons… his mate and unborn children slaughtered in the very Church they lived by humans, hounds, sent by demons.

“Nothing was the same for us after you left us, Gwynn, and for Ryan. Every so often, I wonder, if the stories about a gargoyle going mad aren’t valid. I’ve felt nothing but truly mad without Chenza.” 

“Chris…. I… I know. I know what the angels were doing… ri… right now, I don’t think it’s a good time to discuss me and Ryan… I just escaped… I haven’t even slept yet. I need to do what I need to for the Arch Angel… I need…” They stopped, hesitant to say more, just walking faster despite stumbling.

Chris fell silent, accepting the end of the conversation, as painful as it was that right now for Gwynn, what the angel needed came first. What the angels required always came first, it was their purpose. It was why the gargoyles had been created in the first place. He would never hold that against them. Besides, he had a feeling Arch Angel Jophiel was involved in some way with Gwynn’s escape, so he just continued on, careful to make sure Gwynn didn’t fall as they limped along.

They kept walking in the dank stillness that made one feel as if mildew would grow in the lungs and choke out life… but pressed on. Gwynn was weaker down here, limping along, until finally the stillness was broken after an hour.

“Finally.” A gravelly familiar voice spoke, and slowly a form walked out from the dark, eyes reflecting the light. “Took you long enough…”

While he continued to watch out for them, Chris had to resist reaching for Gwynn, Justice, again, as they finished walking through the uneven terrain of the catacombs, with the way they had flinched away from him before. He didn't desire to make them uncomfortable any more than necessary. He had accompanied them to assist them, not hinder, so he had followed along dutifully. 

Hearing that voice, Chris sighed. “Long enough, dammit Honesty, of all the times I came down here, not a peep, not even after that bastard left?” He didn’t hesitate to move towards the other gargoyle, engulfing him in his arms and wrapping him in a massive hug, squeezing the life out of him. It was like having two, no, three back from the dead, in less than two days.

Honesty was stiff and growled lowly, hugging back but snapping lightly at Chris’s shoulder, grumbling like a wild animal for a moment before huffing. “Kinda hard to get out of a command…” he huffed, “I was re-commanded to stay quiet until a new angel handler arrived. I'm happy it's Justice.”

Gwynn smiled and sighed out. “It's good to see, you, Atsuko…”

Was Chris surprised by his reaction after centuries down here, among the dead, alone? No, no, he was not. Sometimes he wondered about going a little feral himself, and he still had Ryan and Justin to keep him semi-sane. Poor Atsuko, was on his own, commanded, and the only ones he knew to get out of commands on their own, were ones created, not born, like him admittedly, he hadn’t seen another since long before Jerahmiel had left. Wait. Pulling back, he looked over to Gwynn, Justice, the smile was not returned. “He was re-commanded, by who?” and when? Gwynn had said Honesty was the reason they had gotten the information that something was wrong… if the angels' response was to continue to imprison him down here, for at the very least another century. That was how long it had been since Jerahmiel had run… Christopher was going to have words with someone. Maybe not Justice, but someone.

Gwynn looked at Chris, “I was told that he was only told to keep his head down-” they said, looking just as confused as it registered. “The angels who went to him were Jophiel and some lower angels she trusted-”

“One of the lower angels commanded me before leaving with Jophiel. Jophiel wasn’t there…” Atsuko grumbled, and swallowed, “There’s more fallen angels in heaven than you think.” he said softly, frowning as he stepped back, wearing his old uniform that was in disrepair. “I can go up… if I am pulled up. At the door, I can be commanded- Get me out of here.”

While Chris didn’t like the idea of having to command him again, anything to get him out of the catacombs right now. It also seemed the angels had a far bigger problem than just their unit. Fallen angels in heaven. They always acted like they were so much better than them, treated them like they were so superior over the years, and this, this was going to be a difficult issue, he was sure. “Alright, let's start back. Are you alright, Atsuko?” Chris had no idea of the state he’d been left in down here.

Atsuko sighed, “I’ve been better. It’ll be nice to feel the wind… and everything… I don’t even know what time it is… I haven’t shifted in hundreds of years.” he confessed, running his fingers through his hair with a growl, holding onto Chris. 

Upstairs, Vinny sighed and walked over to Ryan, gently placing a hand on his arm, “Hey….” she whispered, “Wanna talk? Or would you like some coffee?” she asked, “A walk maybe?”  Anything to get his mind off of… this. Gwynn… Justice. Jerahmiel… All of it. Her dishevelled curls and bags under her eyes were a reminder of how tired she was, but she couldn’t just leave. No… she needed to stay. For the fact she was a former gargoyle… she deserved answers as well. She couldn’t quite remember the details of her death… but this was important.

Ryan was actually surprisingly feeling a bit tired himself, he was used to sleeping all night, but by now he would have well been encased in stone, imprisoned for the daylight hours. What he really wanted was blood, Jerahmiel’s blood. He wanted all of it. Finally. He wasn’t going to get it though, he knew that much. For everything he had done to him, commanded him, to all of them. From the sounds of it, it was just the start of it with what Gwynn said, the angel had seemed to play by the rules here, toeing the line. Treating them horribly, but carefully. He’d played by the rules, Angel Rules.

“I don’t… I just…” He swallowed, staring at his glass before looking at Vinny, seeing her, remembering all the times he would make bets with Justice, Gwynn, about Chenza and Chris, whether they’d figure themselves out already… “Okay, Justice left, yea… but that bastard made me forget my own mate, and now all I want to know, is when I’m going to finally be allowed to hunt him down. Because that bastard is finally time to pay his due, for all of us.”

Vinny sighed and moved to drape over him, “Ryan… I know it was killing you… And I think you’re fair for being upset. But Gwynn would absolutely let you have him if they could. You know that. Gwynn is good at hiding their emotions when it comes to business, but… you know Gwynn has always been violently protective and sure of themself when it comes to you.” Vinny moved and sat in his lap, hugging him gently, kissing his cheek. “Ryan… You’re strong. You always have been. And I’m proud of you, but it’s okay to be upset, especially after being forced to forget your mate’s name.”

Ryan didn't stop Vinny when she moved to him, shifting to adjust herself over him. The way he sighed, you'd think he was annoyed, he wasn't, not really. He was looking over to his glass, his fingers idly running around the rim as she spoke. Honestly, he was trying not to think about what she was saying, but he knew he needed to. His mind was reeling, just reeling from so many memories that were stolen from him, and it honestly hurt to have them just running through his head. It was chaos right now, and he didn’t know what was up or down. 

His other arm wrapped around her back, as she leaned against him, sighing. Swallowing, forgetting his mate’s name… Forgetting his mate’s name… 

“Their face. He made me forget their face.” Not just their name, but their face. All he could ever see was Jerahmiel.

Her eyes widened in horror. “G…Gwynn’s face? He… he took… Ryan…” she gasped, wrapping around him tighter, holding him firmly chest to chest. “... Ryan… I’m so sorry.” she whispered, eyes watering. “Ryan… oh angels… fuck…” her eyes watered, holding his head to her shoulder, offering him the solace of her shirt to cry into to hide from the fact he was breaking down, if he took it.

His eyes closed as Vinny stumbled with her words, clinging to him, just taking in a slow, deep breath as he considered what he’d admitted to. A sacrilege, a violation, to forget his mate's name, let alone their face, it was horrifying. Even if he found it in him to forgive Gwynn for disappearing, would they ever be able to forgive him? Could he forgive himself? He knew the answer to the last. No.

Angels, angels, sure, angels, fuck the angels though, they didn’t give a shit really, angels had done this to them, time and time again. If they’d really cared, they’ve sent someone else in the last century, at least, to tell him his mate was still alive. Let Honesty out. Do something to help them, while they waited for Gwynn to come back to them. But, of course, the angels. Still, he held Vinny, holding her close, welcoming the comfort, knowing that she understood, that she wasn’t blaming him for feeling… feeling the way he did right now. “Thank you, Vinny.”

Justin made it up the stairs, and while he had a phone now and could call him to let him know he was coming, but he didn’t think, he was just too anxious and needed to see him, immediately. Not to mention he was right there, and the ability to pick every lock known to mortal kind if he wasn’t going to let him in. Did he really want to do that to Daddy, though? Pausing as he glanced back the way he came, before turning to look back to the front door of the apartment that was Ricky and Vinny’s home before, knocking. Knock first, then see if he’d answer.

Ricky jolted at the knock. He had been staring at the door, trying to calm down, since he came back upstairs. He was exhausted, but fear was a powerful emotion. He hadn’t felt this way in years… not since his father… His father. The angel. He gagged, covering his mouth. “Hello…? Who…?” he called, swallowing before approaching the door shaking.

Justin sighed, he sighed, Ricky should be sleeping though, if he was honest, Justin was surprised he wasn’t. Justin himself was wired, tired as well, but wired. “It’s me, Rick, just me, Loyalty.” Not Justin, Loyalty, that was more important, especially right now. Loyalty was who he needed, Loyalty was who he had known for so long. “It’s okay right now, I promise. Can I come in?”

Loyalty…. He opened the door and pulled him in, hiding into his chest, shoulders shaking as he sniffed some, holding onto him for dear life. Then he collapsed into him, uneasy on his feet. Odd… so very odd… But he held on to Justin, closing his eyes as he melted.

Justin swallowed, his arms wrapped around him, holding him tightly, “I got you, I’m here, we’re okay.” Next thing, he was picking him up and carrying him into the apartment the way he felt Ricky almost just collapse, not liking how he seemed to almost sink against him. Taking him over to the couch so they could sit. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Pressing a kiss to his temple.

Ricky rested against him, “I’m so tired…” he murmured softly, holding onto his arm gently. “I couldn’t relax… I was scared…” he never admitted he was scared. He knew it did no good, but he had to say it. “I was so scared you didn’t want… Didn’t…. That they were going to… I…” he babbled, slurring his words softly, tears dripping down his cheeks.

Nodding slightly, “It’s okay to be scared, Christopher told me that, a long time ago, our old handler always used to come down on me about it. I struggled, a lot, and he would slap me down something horrible.” Jerahmiel would punish him for it, being scared, every single time he thought he was even slightly fearful growing up, and all through his teen years, it had been an absolute disaster, worse later. Justin reached up to brush Ricky’s tears away, hating to see him cry, “I have something I wanted to talk to you about, but I, it’s… it’s… intense.”

He looked up at him resting on his shoulder, “O… okay. Afterwards… can I nap on you? You can do whatever you need but- I would very much like to stay close…” he whispered to him, blinking slowly at him, “I feel safe with you around… so much…” he whispered.

Smiling softly, Justin really liked hearing that, he’d wanted to talk to Ricky about this since last night, since the party… “Which is a part of what I wanted to talk to you about. This feeling between us, it’s stronger than I have ever felt before, and, there is, is a bond between gargoyles and… And while we are not technically monogamous.” He wasn’t explaining it right, he didn’t know how to explain it right, but Ryan had mentioned it, and Chris had mentioned it. Just last night, it was said outright about spending time with their mates, Vinny herself had said it. Justin had flushed so bad because they hadn’t even talked, let alone made that step for Ricky to understand.

Ricky swallowed and looked up into his eyes, “Mates.” he said, his cheeks turning pink, “Do… You think…?” he asked softly, “You think I’m… good enough?” he asked confused almost by the thought… Odd… very different from the confidence he normally radiated. “You’d want me as your mate…?”

Just hearing Ricky saying it, had Justin get this silly, goofy grin, while Ricky might not be feeling confident, Justin, oh Justin just hearing Ricky say mates had him feeling so purely excited about the thought. “Yes.” There was not an ounce of hesitation in his voice when he replied, even as Ricky asked. Justin not once wondered if he was good enough, despite all the rules about nephilim, and how dangerous they were. “I love you, and I want to be bonded to you, if you’ll have me? All of me.”

His eyes were wide as he looked into his, and reached up petting his hair before pulling him into a deep loving kiss, fingers tangled in his hair as he shivered. “Yes.” he answered, eyes watering as he leaned up just enough to kiss him again, eyes watering. “Yes…a thousand times… and more… yes.”

Letting him have the moment to consider it, to think as he pet his hair, though as he pulled him in, it would seem he didn’t need so much time and Justin was okay with that. Sighing against his lips, the way Ricky shiver, groaning softly as he nipped so lightly at his nip gently the way he saw his lips watering, fuck… Daddy… If he didn’t know, the others were probably waiting, and who knows how long it would take to get Honesty. 

Even so, “I need to hear you say it too, that you want to be with me.” It was a good laugh to figure out Chris and Vinny were already bonded again, and that they had agreed without even realizing. Justin had a feeling it was because they had once before, their souls were made to be already.

“I want to be your mate.” He murmured softly with wide eyes looking up at him dreamily.

It was so simple to hear, so simple to say, but so massive a feeling to wash over him right then, and Justin could not get enough of it, hearing that word come out of Ricky’s mouth. He wondered if this was what mortals described with the marriage thing. No, no, it couldn’t be with the way he’d seen some of them treating the union. Some of them treating it like it was nothing but a signature on a piece of paper, it was sacrilege. This was something so much more. Justin cupped Ricky’s cheeks and kissed him again, smiling against his lips with a sigh, happily.

“I know you want to sleep, but, downstairs, you can snuggle up in a booth with me, I promise. Gwynn is in the catacombs with Chris, finding a lost member of the troupe that our former handler trapped down there… Honesty, he’s always been a bit, different, probably a little bit more so now.��� Justin rubbed Ricky’s back, he really wanted to go back downstairs, but if Ricky didn’t want to go, he would stay with him, he’d promised, and his mate came first right now. They’d just become mates, he was sure the others would understand.

Ricky sighed softly, “anywhere with you… I want to be with you. I'm just so tired.” He admitted leaning more into him and hid his face against his neck, moaning. His eyes watered as he looked up at him. “Take me anywhere… as long as I'm with you… I'll be okay.” He breathed out softly, arms holding him as he sank against him.

“Okay.” Pressing a kiss on top of Ricky’s head as he leaned against him, his arms wrapped around him, not questioning anything as he picked him up. “Let’s head down.” Carrying Justin downstairs, he didn’t mind how long he had to wait for Chris in the catacombs, and seeing Vinny with Ryan, he settled with Ricky in the booth, and waited.